


I Will Follow You Into The Dark

by azulaahai



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Post-Canon, Pregnancy, future!fic, they're married and disgustingly in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 01:27:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13260732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azulaahai/pseuds/azulaahai
Summary: He finds her in the crypts.It’s no surprise - the last time she was with child Sansa did the same, thinking about their past more than ever, remembering those they had lost. Jon understands the urge better than he can express in words - the need to look back to move forward.





	I Will Follow You Into The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> short, mostly fluffy fic for an anonymous prompt on tumblr requesting "jon and sansa - comforting each other while mourning for their family". Title from the great Death Cab For Cutie song with the same name.

He finds her in the crypts.

It’s no surprise - the last time she was with child Sansa did the same, thinking about their past more than ever, remembering those they had lost. Jon understands the urge better than he can express in words - the need to look back to move forward. However, the idea of Sansa sitting in the dark crypts beneath the castle grieving and alone breaks his heart a little. He joins her as often as she gives him the chance, but this day she has gone down alone after supper.

Jon expects her to sit by her father’s statue, where he usually finds her, but today she’s closer to the entrance. He doesn’t need to look to know which statue she is facing - it’s the one he himself usually avoids. _Lyanna._ His aunt-turned-mother. _Or perhaps his mother-turned-aunt. ___

__Sansa turns when she hears him coming, a faint smile playing upon her lips._ _

__“Have you come to fetch me, husband?”  
“To keep you company, if you’d have me.” She turns her head to the side, pretending to consider his offer. After a while, she nods with mocking reluctance, and he offers her his arm as he moves to stand beside her._ _

“Love, what do you … _do_ down here for so long?” Jon’d never admit it, but there is something chilling about the crypts to him. It is ridiculous, of course - he is lord of Winterfell and king in the North - but still, down here in the crypts, he feels inadequate, foreign. As a boy, the feeling was easy to explain - he was a bastard, no true Stark, had no place among the Stark lords and kings of legend. But even still, having been crowned and legitimised, his sons and sons-of-his-sons set to rule the castle for ages to come if the old gods are willing, Jon feels himself shrinking as he enters the crypts. _A place for Starks, trueborn and just. I do not belong here._

____

____

__Sansa senses his unease, as she always seems to, and gently places her head to rest upon his shoulder, her hands moving to lay protectively over her swollen belly. He wraps an arm around her waist and mimics her turning of her gaze towards the statue before them._ _

__Lyanna. Mother, he ought to think, perhaps. A sting of bitterness at the thought, a childish, irrational frustration at the world. Sansa seems to sense that as well, quickly moving to distract him._ _

__“To answer your question, love -” Jon smiles at her teasing tone. “- I don’t do much of anything, really, down here. I think. I … remember.” Her voice is steady, but Jon strokes her back in comfort nevertheless. Neither of them look down the corridor further into the darkness, where Ned Stark lies. Where Robb ought to lie, if the gods had any mercy. Robb’s body has not been recovered. Jon fears it never will._ _

__“You look a lot like her, you know”, Sansa says softly, still regarding Lyanna’s statue. Sansa has brought flowers down here, he sees now, and the gesture makes Jon’s heart swell. _She was fond of flowers._ Ned always used to say so. In answer to his wife’s remark, Jon shrugs. He can find no resemblance of his in some carvings of stone. But Lyanna, like him, was always said to have the Stark look. Perhaps it is true - perhaps he does take after his mother._ _

__“Jon”, Sansa says then, in a different voice - her tone is still soft, but in a different way. Jon has only ever heard her use this voice a handful of times - most recently to announce that she was with their third child. Now Sansa moves to stand before him, turning her back to the statue. She ceremoniously grabs his hands and gently presses it to her stomach. Jon lifts his free hand to cup her face, his thumb stroking her cheek._ _

__“What is it, love?”_ _

__“I … it is a girl this time, Jon.”_ _

__“Sansa … are you certain?” A silly question, of course - how could she be? But to his surprise, she remains serious._ _

__“Yes. I am sure of it.” Jon smiles. They have two boys, two healthy, happy boys - Rickard and Robb - and Jon knows not how he could possibly cram anymore happiness into his life. Yet, although she would never admit so, Jon knows Sansa longs for a daughter - and now it looks as if she’ll have one. Sansa could be wrong, of course. But Jon has found she rarely is._ _

__“A daughter …” he whispers. He tries to wrap his arms around Sansa, tuck her close to his chest, but to his surprise, she pulls back._ _

__“I think I know what we should name her”, she says, her eyebrows raised in question. They both turn to look towards the statue. Jon knows it to be impossible, but for a moment, just a moment, he feels as though the ever-stern statue shoots him a small smile._ _

"Lyanna.” He tastes the name, awaits the bitter aftertaste that normally follows, but it never comes - the word is sweet on his tongue. _"Lyanna."_


End file.
